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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868538">In the Midst of Two Worlds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryredismyheart/pseuds/cherryredismyheart'>cherryredismyheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Inspired by The Witcher, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryredismyheart/pseuds/cherryredismyheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Continent is plunged into chaos following the onset of an unnatural, dark eclipse of the sun, and an unknown girl lies forgotten in the forest, having found herself deep in the throws of her own destiny. Lacking all recollection of who she was and where she came from, she knows only that she is surrounding by tiny plum-colored flowers and decides to name herself after them - Astrid. Unknown to the girl, she is the last of her kind to survive a genocide of her people, and crosses paths with the one man that can help her change her fate, and alter the fate of the Continent forever: the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character, geralt of rivia/reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Midst of Two Worlds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello loves, please consider this short first chapter a very brief introduction to your character, and how she came to be in the Continent, in the world of the Witcher. If I'm being perfectly honest, I've never written a story on this website before, so please be patient as I work out the mechanics... it is embarrassingly confusing to me. I promise the rest of the chapters will be long and beautiful, but please enjoy this little introduction into your world, and a whisper of my writing style. Thank you for the love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One: The Beginning</p><p>Who am I?</p><p>I stare down at my hands outstretched before me, skin pale and fingers long and trembling. I roll my fingers, feeling the bones ache and the muscles strain, watching as the feint veins shift with my movements. It feels so foreign, to move these hands, my hands. I turn my palms up, and find them to be clean and soft, stretched with fate lines and heart lines. The tips of my fingers, however, are stained a deep, twilight plum color, as if I had been rifling around in a basket of fresh fruits, but as I rub my fingers together, I find that the purple on my fingertips does not fade. A breath catches in my throat, and my knees tremble. They buckle, and I fall to them with a soft thud on the earth beneath me, sending a breath shuttering through my body. Why am I so weak?</p><p>My body is frail and I am naked, and as I look around me, I find I am in this unfamiliar, frighteningly vast forest in the dead of night. The trees stretch far into the sky, dark moss plaguing their ancient trunks. There is absolute silence; not the sounds of water rushing through a stream, not the scuttering of animals or beasts along the forest floor, and there are certainly no sounds of people or any other signs of life. Alone, with no recollection of how I came to be here. My mind feels faint and barren, and I feel almost as if I had just woken up from a very long sleep in a state of confusion. I wish this were the case, but as I sit willing my breath to be slow and steady and willing the memories to flood back as I come to my senses, nothing comes to me. I remember nothing, and I feel nothing. 

A single drop of wetness rolls down my face, and I dig my stained fingertips into the soft mush of the ground. </p><p>I know one thing, and it is that I hate this feeling of uselessness. The chill breeze of night sends goosebumps trailing down my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself, weary of my nakedness and the absolute strangeness of my situation. Though the forest is dark and eerie, the soft moonlight casts a pale white shine on the petals of the flowers surrounding me. I had only just noticed them. I reached out and drew my finger across the deep purple shade of a small flower bud. I felt as though I understood them. Miniscule and frail, in the midst of the place that they clearly don't belong. I knew these flowers.</p><p>The astrid flowers, little spurs of sprawling purple petals that crept towards me.</p><p>Astrid.</p><p>My heart beats weakly with the strain of keeping my body upright, and I roll over to my side. The dizzy stupor threatening to overwhelm my brain was consuming me, and I could focus on nothing but the buzzing behind my ears. I pull my knees to my chest, staring weakly ahead of me, watching the astrids twist and wilt, as if drawn back into the soil by some form of magic. Before unconsciousness takes me, I stretch out my fingers to touch the last of the dying flowers.</p>
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